Olivia’s POV
What was I doing here?
The question circled through my mind as I stood in Maxwell’s bedroom, my heart hamring, my palms sweating.
I’d planned to tell him the truth once we got back to Tokyo. In a public place. Sowhere safe. With an escape route.
But I couldn’t wait anymore.
His attitude toward Gabriel and just now - the barely controlled rage, the possessiveness, the way he’d looked at us with pure rage - it showed that I needed to step up before it was too late.
And Damien’s threat hung over like a guillotine waiting to drop.
I needed to co clean. Now. Before Damien told him first. Before Maxwell heard it as an accusation rather than a confession.
Besides, what could he really do right now? We were in the air. The worst thing he could do was call the cops and have them waiting when we landed. And before then, I could plead with whatever conscience he had left to forgive .
After all, we were friends now. Right?
This was literally the best ti.
I settled onto the edge of the bed, trying to gather my courage. Maxwell stood tall above , his presence overwhelming, making it impossible to concentrate.
"Could you... could you sit?" My voice ca out smaller than I intended. "Please?"
He moved slowly, lowering himself onto the bed beside - not too close, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He said nothing. Just waited. Watching with those green eyes that seed to see everything.
I took a deep breath, my gaze dropping to my hands twisted in my lap. "I want to apologize first. For coming into your bedroom with Gabriel. It was rude and disrespectful, and I take full responsibility."
Silence.
I forced myself to look up at him. "Do you accept my apology?"
He nodded once. Sharp. Controlled.
But his expression was unreadable. No anger. No forgiveness. Just a blank mask that terrified more than rage would have.
Was he still angry? Was now really the best ti to do this?
"If you don’t feel like talking," I said, already starting to stand, "I can let you rest and co back later..."
"What did you co to say?" His voice cut through my retreat.
I sat back down. "I ca to confess sothing."
"About what?"
The words stuck in my throat. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"First, you have to promise sothing."
His eyebrow rose slightly.
"Promise you won’t get angry. Or throw in jail."
"Did you kill anyone dear to ?"
"What? No!"
"Did you steal sothing of importance?"
"No, but..."
"Then you have nothing to worry about." His voice was calm. Too calm. "Go ahead."
"Are you sure?"
"What is it, Olivia?"
I sighed deeply, my entire body trembling. "Oh God. This is even harder than I thought. Where do I even start?"
"Start from the very beginning."
Right. The beginning.
"Okay." My voice ca out barely above a whisper. "After that day I ca to your Dr. Heart’s office - when you told Alex wasn’t good for - I went back to work only to discover he was being transferred to Wellington and Sons. He was moving to your company."
Maxwell’s expression didn’t change, but I saw sothing flicker in his eyes.
"And I was... I was obsessed with him. With Alex. For a very long ti." The confession felt like pulling glass from a wound. "So I decided to follow him to your company. To secure a job there so I could be close to him."
"You secured a job in my company?" Maxwell’s voice was still controlled, but there was an edge now. "And I didn’t know about it?"
"Yes."
"As what?"
I looked down at my hands, unable to et his eyes. "As a junior associate at first, then as your personal assistant."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I could feel him staring at . Could feel the mont understanding started to dawn. Could feel the world tilting on its axis.
"Are you..." His voice ca out strangled, disbelieving. "Are you trying to say..."
I forced myself to look at him. To et those eyes that were now wide with shock.
"I am Oliver." The words ca out in a rush. "Yes. Oliver Hopton. I’ve been disguising myself as a man to work as your personal assistant for the past month."
Maxwell stiffened. His entire body went rigid. His hands clenched and unclenched on his thighs, the knuckles going white.
"No." He shook his head, like he could physically reject the words. "No."
"Maxwell..."
"No!" His voice rose. "That’s not... you can’t be... Oliver is..."
"Oliver is ." Tears were streaming down my face now. "I wore short wigs. I wore binding. I practiced the voice. I learned to walk differently, act differently. I created an entire persona so I could work in your company. So I could be close to Alex."
Maxwell was staring at like I’d grown a second head. Like I was speaking a language he couldn’t comprehend.
"You’re lying." But even as he said it, I could see him putting the pieces together. "This is so kind of joke. So kind of..."
"It’s not a joke." I slid off the bed onto my knees in front of him, my hands clasped together. "I’m so sorry, Maxwell. I’m so, so sorry. I know what I did was wrong. I know I betrayed your trust. I know I committed fraud and lied to you for so long. But please...please... I’m begging you to forgive ."
He just stared at , his chest rising and falling rapidly, his face cycling through emotions too fast to track.
Shock. Disbelief. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal.
"Oliver," he said quietly. "All this ti. Every day. Every conversation. Every mont in my office..."
"Was . Yes."
"The late nights working. The business trips. The tis you..." He stopped, his face going pale. "The tis I..."
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
But I knew what he was thinking. All the tis he’d been inappropriate with Oliver. All the comnts. All the looks. All the gas he’d played.
"I deceived you," I said, my voice breaking. "I know. I’m a terrible person. I’m a liar and a fraud and I understand if you hate . If you want to press charges. If you never want to see again. But please, please understand that I never ant to do it intentionally. I was just trying to..."
A wave of nausea hit .
Sudden. Overwhelming. Making the world spin.
I paused, gripping the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through it.
It passed. Just a mont of dizziness.
I started to speak again. "Maxwell, I..."
The nausea ca back. Stronger this ti. Violent.
My stomach churned. My mouth filled with saliva. My entire body rebelled.
"Olivia?" Maxwell’s voice seed far away.
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do anything but scramble to my feet and run.
The bathroom was attached to the bedroom - thank God. I barely made it to the toilet before I was throwing up, my entire body heaving, tears streaming down my face from the force of it.
I heard movent behind . Felt hands pulling my hair back from my face.
"Jesus Christ," Maxwell muttered.
I couldn’t respond. Could only grip the toilet bowl and retch until there was nothing left.
When the heaving finally stopped, I slumped against the wall, gasping for air, my entire body shaking.
Maxwell handed a towel without a word.
I wiped my mouth, unable to et his eyes. Of all the ways I’d imagined this conversation going, vomiting on his bathroom floor hadn’t been part of the plan.
"Are you sick?" His voice was carefully neutral.
"I don’t know. Maybe. Stress, probably." I tried to laugh but it ca out as a sob. "Perfect timing, right? Confess my cris and then throw up all over your bathroom."
He said nothing for a long mont.
Then: "Stand up."
I looked up at him, confused.
"Stand up," he repeated, extending his hand.
I took it hesitantly, letting him pull to my feet. He guided to the sink, turned on the water, handed a cup.
"Rinse your mouth."
I did as instructed, the cool water helping settle my stomach slightly.
When I was done, I finally dared to look at him in the mirror.
His expression was still unreadable, but sothing had shifted. The shock was still there, but underneath it was sothing else. Sothing I couldn’t quite identify.
"Are you done?" he asked.
I nodded.
"You don’t have any more confessions? Any more revelations that will turn my entire world upside down?"
"That’s it. That’s everything."
"You’re Oliver."
"I’m Oliver."
"My assistant for the past month."
"Yes."
"The person I’ve spent nearly every day with. The person I’ve trusted with confidential information. The person I’ve..." He stopped again, his jaw clenching.
"I know. I know what I did to you. How I betrayed you." Fresh tears spilled over. "I’m so sorry, Maxwell. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to be close to Alex, and then everything spiraled out of control, and I didn’t know how to stop it."
"Alex." His voice was flat. "You did all of this for Alex."
"Yes. At first. But then..."
"Then what?"
I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t tell him that sowhere along the way, it had stopped being about Alex. That it had beco about him. About Maxwell. About the man who drove crazy and made my heart race and looked at with eyes that made hot all over.
"It doesn’t matter," I said instead. "The point is, I lied to you. I deceived you. And I’m sorry."
Maxwell was quiet for so long I thought he might never speak again.
Then: "Get out."
The words felt like a heavy blow to my face.
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